


It gets cold out here.

by lil_slug



Series: A Post-War Odyssey [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Angst, Child Abuse, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-20 18:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_slug/pseuds/lil_slug
Summary: Will Byers is dead. He has already somehow accepted that cold fact, when he is saved by a boy, who seems to know what he's doing. Has Will just found a new home?Or: The homeless AU fic set in the 1940s I wrote some time after Season 2 came out, and that I never published anywhere because I thought it was shit.





	1. Dead Kid Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I just can't write right now. Last week has left me somewhat exasperated, and the inspiration for 'It's the doubt.' has kinda hit a real low. I put it on hiatus, which probably won't last long, but yeah, I'm not feeling well.
> 
> 2\. I found this on my hard drive (it's really old but I never published it until now) and thought I might just put it out there, even if I don't like it a whole lot. I kinda enjoy editing it to make it a bit better, so maybe you won't even hate it. I can't promise a chapter a day, and I have no idea how many chapters it's gonna have, since I didn't split it into chapters when I wrote it. I just do that as I'm going along with editing.
> 
> 3\. Small explanation, even though you'd get the information through the story eventually. It's also in the tags. This is set in 1948. Just because I thought this allows for more freedom with the plot. Homeless kids often don't get as far in more modern times and I kinda felt inspired by stuff like 'Stand By Me' (that one's actually set in the late 50s, but it gave me some inspiration')
> 
> 4\. This doesn't even include real romantic Byler. But maybe it's close, idk.

Will Byers is dead.

 

Now, he has thought that of himself too many times to count in the last two years. This time, however, his situation really justifies it. His legs are hurting like they never have before, his lungs are about to explode from the strain he is forcing on them. His shoes have begun falling apart, with the soles slowly coming undone on both of them. So far they‘re still holding up, but if the chase goes on like this, he‘s going to run through the streets of Indianapolis on nothing but his ripped socks.

 

He can‘t allow himself to slow down, though. He can see people, too many to count, but none of them seem to even bat an eye about the dirty twelve year old running for dear life. Not even for the taller boy running after him, wielding a gigantic army knife. The constant shouts of „You‘re dead!“ and „I‘m gonna slice you up!“ don‘t make an impression on anyone either. Indifference all around him.

 

Will can‘t see a policeman anywhere near, but that‘s more relieving than anything. If he wasn‘t so exhausted, he‘d shudder at the thought of what the police would do to him. _Send him back_. No, that‘s not going to happen. Will might die today. But he won‘t go back. More than once he has to pull up the almost empty beige seabag he is carrying with him to keep it from sliding off his shoulder.

 

His sore feet carry him past cigar-smoking men in suits with newspapers, past women in aprons on grocery runs, past children playing with marbles, exchanging cigarettes under the disinterested glances of old hobos. The streets aren‘t even properly paved in this part of town. He sees and hears cars rattling by, most of them old, all of them stinking. And he can still hear the boy shouting.

 

But then, Will only really comes to regret his actions when he turns around a corner to face a short dead-end alleyway. Now, there is really no way out. _All of this for 4 Dollars_ he thinks bitterly. Well, 4 Dollars that could feed him for an entire month if he isn‘t picky. It just looks like he won‘t ever get a chance to be picky again anyways.

 

Will has given up. He turns around to find the boy with the knife blocking the entrance to the alley. Both Will and the boy are panting heavily. His heartbeat makes his left eye, where he was hit minutes ago, throb with dull pain. But what difference does a black eye make now?

 

„Two ways, you piece of shit.“ the attacker sneers. „You give me back my money and I‘ll make sure to kill you fast. Five seconds. I have to come over there, you‘re gonna die slowly.“

 

Will swallows hard at those words. _That‘s what you get for stealing_. So, what can he do? Either approach the boy, give him the money, submit to his fate, get it over with and lay his head to rest. Or try to stay alive for as long as possible and suffer the consequences.

 

It‘s not like Will has a choice. He backs away slowly, desperately trying to tell his feet to move forwards. Will is used to pain. In fact, pain has been his constant companion for years, no matter where he went. And still, he is terrified at the prospect of what that army knife with sharp sawteeth might do to him.

 

„That how you want it?“ the other boy grunts, slowly approaching Will. „I warned you. But you really want me to have some fun, right?“

 

Will finally lets out a dry sob when his back comes in contact with the cold brick wall that marks the end of this death trap. The single hint of sunlight comes flooding in from behind his attacker, who is now just one step away from him. He knows he is going to die. But first, he is going to bleed.

 

Towering over him, the dark menace lets the sharp looking knife scrape across Will‘s cheek, drawing a mere faint trickle of blood that mixes with his tears. Will barely even feels the impossibly small cut. The devilish grin just inches from his own face makes him wonder what it‘s going to be like. Will he cry for his mother or for Jonathan before it‘s over?

 

Will closes his eyes. His seabag drops to the ground without making a sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND: I really have to get this out.
> 
> So, the heat was REALLY bad these past few weeks. I took a few days off, went to my parents' house (they have a garden with some shade), and that's pretty much the reason why I'm not in the mood to write currently. I don't even know why I still visit them.  
> I really just filled that old kiddie pool they have with cold water and sat in it for days. That was nice. And, I mean, I remember what being a teenager is like, but my 15 year old brother really takes the whole thing to extremes. He even threatened pinching holes in the pool if I didn't let him in, but eventually didn't because he didn't want dad to beat him up.
> 
> And then, over dinner on Friday, he was shifting around, so I asked him what's wrong, and this is literally what he said:  
> "My dickhead is dry and it hurts. But you wouldn't let me in the pool."  
> Again, this is dinner table talk for my family. Dad was all like:  
> "As if water would help with dry skin, retard. Use moisturizer. But that's no fucking lube, got it?"  
> Then after dinner mom and dad got drunk, my brother waited for them to pass out (probably moisturized his dick), and got drunk on their leftover booze. I just drove home in the middle of the night because I can't stand this house anymore.
> 
> True story. Excuse my rambling. Shit is messed up.


	2. A Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing this is actually surprisingly fun. It's so old, I barely remember writing it. So it's more like editing someone else's work really.

_Crack!_

 

The sound of breaking glass echoes in the damp alleyway. Will‘s attacker is still grinning manically when his black eyes roll up in his head and he slumps to the dirty ground like a bag of potatoes. His scraped hand lets go of the knife, making it land too far away from Will to grab it. Which is a shame, because someone else is there, and that someone is already armed.

 

Will‘s blurry eyes have to adapt for a few seconds as he forces his tears to run dry. As it is, he can already recognize the person standing there as taller than himself, but not quite as tall as the attacker he just knocked out. It‘s a boy. A boy with the remains of a brown glass bottle in his hand.

 

Will sees his dirty shirt. His ripped open pants and dry leather shoes. Most of his greasy black hair is hidden underneath a light gray flat cap that looks impossibly large on his head and hangs down over his ears on either side, as if it originally belonged to a very broad adult. But to be fair, Will would probably wear it too. On the streets people don‘t care if their clothes fit. They‘re just lucky to have them.

 

The boy opposite to Will picks up the knife, discarding the bottleneck. Some dark red blood now trickles from the back of the attacker‘s head, which is resting in a pile of glass shards.

 

„Jeez.“ Will‘s savior grunts. „You messed with the wrong guy, kid.“

 

Kid? What‘s that supposed to mean? While taller, the boy is maybe a year older than Will, if he‘s not the same age. „I... he wanted to kill me.“

 

„Would have killed you.“ the other one confirms nonchalantly. „Seen him doing it before. His name‘s Troy, and if you know what‘s good for you, you stay as far away from him as you can.“

 

„T-thanks.“ Will mumbles, eyes still fixated on the knife that the boy is now playing with. „I‘m... Will. Will Byers.“

 

„Did I ask for your name, kid? What‘d you do to make him snap his cap?“

 

„S-stole money.“

 

The boy‘s eyes narrow at Will, his hand with the knife suddenly stops moving. „How much?“ He then approaches Will in a similar manner as Troy has just minutes before. This is just jumping out of the frying pan into the fire now. „Give me that!“ the black-haired one bellows, pointing at Will‘s bag.

 

„It‘s empty.“ Will protests weakly in attempt to get to keep it, but the bag is soon ripped from where it was resting next to his shaking legs.

 

„Well, it‘s mine now.“ the other one says, satisfied. „The money too. How much? Where is it?“

 

Maybe there is a way to get out of this while still being better off than before. „Just a Dollar.“ he says bitterly. „Here.“ Giving the boy one of the four bills he keeps in his back pocket, Will hopes to get rid of him that way. A whole Dollar isn‘t too bad.

 

His hopes are shattered, when the other one grunts „You‘re shitting me.“ Pinning Will against the wall by the collar of his shirt, he hisses „Give me everything. And be grateful I‘m not cutting you open like he would have.“

 

Will has no choice. He hands over the remaining money, fearing that lying again would make things worse. The back of his head seems to be swelling painfully from where he hit the rough wall, and the fearful shivering is back.

 

Showing off his yellow teeth, one of which appears to be missing entirely, the boy, now 4 Dollars richer and with Will‘s seabag in hand, turns to leave. Will, meanwhile, lets himself slide down against the wall, until his behind is seated on the cold ground. The unconscious, bleeding body next to him doesn‘t bother him in the least anymore. However, he gasps when a thought crosses his mind.

 

„Wait!“ he shouts. „Please! There‘s... something.“

 

„Something what?“

 

„In the bag. You won‘t need it. It‘s just... just a photo.“ That one photo, the one he can‘t lose, is really the only item in the bag. It‘s a good place to store it, protected from the elements. Right now it‘s summer, but it‘s not always going to stay this warm and dry.

 

„A photo.“ the other boy repeats. „This one?“ He shows the framed black and white photograph to Will. „Huh.“ He inspects it closely. „That‘s you?“

 

„Yeah.“ Will sniffs. „Me, my mother, and Jonathan. My brother. Four years ago.“

 

„Four years?“ the boy laughs. „You don‘t look any different, kid. Hm. Christmas 1944.“ He reads the small hand written note on the bottom of it. „Christmas in the war was shit, wasn‘t it? With everyone buying war bonds instead of food and presents. Not that I‘m ungrateful.“

 

„Kind of.“ Will says, not really meaning it. Back then, at least for him, the world was okay. Things were fine, and if he could go back, he‘d sacrifice pretty much anything and everything. „Can I have it back?“

 

„You...“ the other one looks at the photo intently, biting his lip. Will can almost hear his mind rattling over the picture. „You‘re gonna go home to them now?“ he asks warily.

 

„What?“ Will questions. „To my family? N-no. No, I don‘t have a home.“ Apparently, that was the right thing to say right now. A hint of pity crosses the other boy‘s eyes as he crouches down in front of Will.

 

„What‘s your name again?“ he asks.

 

„Will Byers.“

 

„Can you listen? Do as you‘re told, I mean?“

 

„I... yeah. Why?“ Will doesn‘t get where the boy is going with this.

 

„Because you‘re gonna get beat up if you can‘t. Here, take it.“ He drops the photo back into the otherwise empty bag and hands it to Will. „I‘m Mike.“ he finally introduces himself. „Wheeler. Okay, Byers. You choose. Starve, ‘cause you really look like you don‘t know how things work out here, or come meet my teacher? There‘s a Dollar in for you.“ Smirking, Mike waves one of the Dollar bills in front of Will‘s face.


	3. Gotta Be Bold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I keep splitting it up like that, I might end up somewhere around 10-12 chapters fyi. Chapter length may vary though.

„What kind of teacher... I mean... he‘s not gonna send me-“

 

„He‘s not gonna send you anywhere. Worst he can do is shove you around.“ Mike waves it off. „It‘s not like... not like he‘s a real teacher. Like, with books and everything. Really just a damned old boozer. And not even that old if you ask me. Just looks like it because he‘s dirty and drunk half the time. But he teaches me.“

 

To some extent, that relieves Will. A real teacher, someone who works at a school with children, a blackboard, chalk, and a paddle would probably just rat homeless kids out to get them either back to their parents, or to one of those dreaded orphanages Will‘s pa used to threaten him with whenever he was in a foul mood.

 

Will points at the unconscious Troy. „What about him?“ He asks, letting Mike help him to his feet.

 

„That fat-head?“ he snorts. After pondering for a good while, he sighs. „Yeah. We should probably do something. Get out of the way.“

 

Will positions himself a few steps behind Mike, half expecting him to wake up the still unconscious Troy. In that case, they would both have to run for their lives, he reckons. Mike, however, does pretty much the opposite. It‘s painful to watch and to _hear_ him kick Troy in the side repeatedly, with all the strength he can probably muster. More than once the unconscious boy‘s ribs crack audibly.

 

The brutality of is nothing short of shocking, and Mike is severely out of breath when he stops, turning to Will, who involuntarily takes a hasty step back. „He won‘t follow us anytime soon.“ Mike notes. „Unless he can run with broken ribs.“

 

„Y-you c-can‘t. Run with b-broken ribs, I mean.“ Will stutters, still in mild shock.

 

Mike grins at him. „You got experience with that?“

  
More than Will would like to admit, so he retorts to not saying anything. „Can we get going?“ The alley is nothing short of uncomfortable, and Mike spitting on Troy for good measure doesn‘t make it any better.

 

„Not yet.“ he says. „Look at his shoes. They‘re pretty good. His pants too. Not touching that nasty shirt, but everything else we oughta take.“ As much as Will would hate leaving an unconscious, gravely injured boy in an alley without any shoes or pants, he knows Mike is right, and thus helps him take everything he can from Troy and stuff it in his seabag.

 

A welcome sight appears in the form of a pretty darn good slingshot he finds in the back pocket. „Can I take that?“ he asks.

 

„Don‘t see why not.“ Mike‘s eyes rest on the forked twig with its rubber band. „Good thing he‘s lying on his side.“ he then notes, pointing at Troy, before guiding Will out into the sunlight by his shoulder. „You know, people can drown in their own blood.“ A look over his shoulder reveals quite a lot of blood running out of Troy‘s nose. „And, you know, if he didn‘t I couldn‘t be bothered to turn him around. Think he‘s gonna die anyways?“

 

„I- I mean-“

 

„Too slow.“ Mike slaps Will, slaps him hard across the back of his head as he drags him along down the busy street. It doesn‘t hurt too bad, though. „Next time you just say _‚yes, Mike_ ‘ or _‚no, Mike‘_ , as if you‘re not a complete knucklehead. Hard to believe you survived a single day.“

 

„I‘ve managed so far.“ Will counters. „I‘m still alive.“

 

„Yeah, and how long have you been here?“ Mike is now walking backwards, not minding the way he moves against the flow of pedestrians. For some reason, he never even bumps into anyone; instead he almost dances around the oncoming people. He makes a masterful impression that way, as if he owned this street. „Look at yourself. All squeaky clean. We‘re gonna have to fix that.“

 

 _Clean?_ Will feels anything but. His hair is disgustingly greasy and already longer than he usually likes it, his clothes are ripped in some places, detached soles exposing his black socks that used to be white. He can‘t smell himself, but he reckons he must be reeking. On the other hand, he can‘t smell Mike either, despite the boy looking way worse than Will.

 

His shirt sleeves are rolled up, something Will would never do, there are stains from what looks like oil all over it, some tears in it expose white skin. His knuckles, black with probably ashes, are scraped with dried blood all over them. There‘s not a lot left of his shoes either, and him wearing that adult sized flat cap is probably for the better. Will doesn‘t want to know how it looks under there.

 

Just as he thinks that, though, Mike pulls off his cap, under which he seems to have hidden several objects in sewn in pockets. Very casually lighting a cigarette, he pops the cap back onto his filthy head. The little butt sits right where he is missing a tooth.

 

„How long?“ Mike repeats, pressing a bit more. „Can‘t be more than a month.“

 

It‘s a curious question. „Three weeks.“ Will sighs. „I think. I don‘t know exactly.“ He isn‘t lying, but it‘s not the full truth either. Granted, Will left home about three weeks ago, but really it stopped being his home long before that.

 

„Three weeks, huh?“ Blowing smoke out of his nose, Mike offers Will the cigarette, to which Will doesn‘t react. „All on your own this whole time?“

 

„Looks like it.“ But not anymore, as it seems. Maybe this will help. Mike and this ‚teacher‘ of his. Do they have a place to sleep? Food? Will can‘t remember his last meal. Maybe three or four days ago, and even that was just a pitiful, dry sandwich he spent his last few cents on. Since then it‘s all been waste he picked up outside of smaller restaurants.

 

The two of them pass a convenience store with rusted pickup truck parked in front of it. Boxes of fruit and vegetables just stand there on the sidewalk. It looks like the owner is in the middle of unloading „Know what?“ Mike grunts. „Out here you gotta be bold. Do stuff as if you‘re allowed to.“ Walking past the boxes, he snatches up a few apples. „See? Confidence! Keep on walking. Don‘t look at people, or they‘re gonna look at you. You‘re small. And fast. That‘s a good thing.“

 

„Okay...“ Still trying to process the information, Will is handed one of the apples.

 

„This one‘s free.“ Mike points a finger at his face. „But you‘re gonna have to work for the next one. Hopper doesn‘t give me free shit, I‘m not giving you free shit. Understood?“

 

„Hopper? Who-“

 

„That‘s his name. I mean, I think it‘s his name. He likes to be called that. Might be a nickname from back when he was hopping freight trains. Real name could be Teddy Roosevelt for all I know.“ Shrugging, Mike pulls the last vestiges of smoke out of his cigarette. Will is already in the middle of devouring what is possibly the most delicious thing he has ever eaten. He doesn‘t even mind his jaw hurting from days of not getting to chew anything. „Faster, Byers!“

 

It takes some effort from his sore feet to keep up with the black haired boy now, and aside from that, Will is seriously wondering if following him is such a great idea. After all, he has heard some pretty gruesome stories about men who lure children in, even going as far as using other children as bait. A radio program once informed him of that, among other things these homosexuals do. There is no one to protect Will. No one who would be looking for him, probably. If pa has noticed him being gone, he is more likely to celebrate than go looking for him.

 

Still, he follows. Mike seems to know exactly where he is going, even if it takes about half an hour. During that time, Will worryingly loses most of his vision in his left eye, due to the swelling from where Troy hit him.

 

„Damn.“ Mike laughs. „Bastard‘s got you good there. Hopper could cut that open if you want. Drain the blood, y‘know.“

 

But Will decides, he has been cut enough for today. The dried blood on his cheek is evidence enough. It‘s not his first black eye, and it might not even be his last. He knows how many days of pain he has to expect. His right eye is in working order, that‘s all that matters, and it lets him take a closer look at his surroundings. This isn‘t exactly a populated area. It‘s more run down than any place he has seen so far in Indianapolis, littered with old cans, moldy remnants of brick walls, and dirty looking people, most of which Will doesn‘t want to get too close to.

 

„You know what this is?“ Mike asks, as some large blocks of dark red brick come into view.

 

„Looks like... warehouses?“ Will offers. „They‘re old, right?“

 

„Ever heard of the Great Depression?“ Grinning, Mike skips over a few deep cracks in the road on one foot.

 

Will _has_ in fact heard of that. More than once, from Mr Melvald, the convenience store owner, when he dropped Will off at school with his old Model T. How he left Detroit after losing his job, went to California to find there was no work, how he eventually came to settle in Hawkins when things got a bit better. Will always liked Mr Melvald. On Sundays he sometimes even let him drive the Model T on an empty road outside of town.

 

So he answers „Yeah. All abandoned?“

 

„Whole part of town.“ Mike confirms. „This...“ he points as the last warehouse near the end of the road „...is our house. If you wanna call it that.“

 

„Just you and... uh... Hopper?“ Will carefully approaches the metal gate, that is only hanging from one hinge by now. It doesn‘t look like they ever close it.

 

Mike shrugs. „It‘s not like he wouldn‘t allow others around here. People just stay away from him. Or he stays away from people. Let‘s see if he‘s here.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before editing this, I kinda forgot how much of a street kid Mike actually is in this.


	4. Acquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The editing I do to this becomes heavier with every chapter. So... this is a rather long one.

Mike confidently steps inside, with Will following slowly, making sure no one is hiding outside of his field of view. He could still run, and he‘d end up with his seabag, a new pair of pants, new shoes, a slingshot, and one Dollar cash. But something inside his guts tells him he is supposed to trust Mike. It‘s the way the boy behaves, as if he was king of the streets. That‘s comforting, and Will really doesn‘t want to be alone anymore.

 

The warehouse, for the most part, is just one giant room with a high ceiling, and long lines of narrow windows too high up to actually look outside. The front gate and back gate are equally large, both open, and Will can make out a large paved yard out back.

 

„Hopper!“ Mike shouts, surprising Will with the strong echo. „You there?“

 

Nothing.

 

Mike smirks. „Guess he‘s at the office.“

 

„Office.“ Will repeats skeptically.

 

„Sure. Warehouse owner‘s gotta have an office. Junior partner...“ Mike points at his own chest. „...gets his own desk too. It‘s nice to sleep under.“ He leads Will to something that looks a bit like a small house inside of this large warehouse, pulling the door open. „We even got a key for this, so we can keep stuff in here. Hopper?“

 

The office is really just that. Two desks, two larger windows, old file cabinets, long emptied, and... well, an extremely dirty man, hidden behind a newspaper in his creaking wooden chair. The tall guy doesn‘t show his face. „You‘re back.“ he grumbles, surprising Will with his deep, menacing voice.

 

„Yeah.“ Mike sighs. „Just like yesterday, the day before, the day before that, and so on. But you don‘t really wanna get rid of me. You‘d just stab me at night if you did.“

 

Will is startled when the man chuckles from behind the paper. „You know me too damn well. Find anything useful today?“

 

The grin on Mike‘s face is wide and toothy. „Got myself 3 Dollars...“ he winks at Will, talking casually „...a real fancy knife... spare shoes... spare pants...“ At these words Hopper really peeks up for the first time, stopping his rustling with the newspaper. „...and this kid over here.“

 

In an instant, the paper slams down in the desk, revealing a bearded face, sparse hair with gray streaks, and wide eyes. „Jesus Christ!“ Hopper grunts. „Who told you you could bring a kid here?“

 

„Not my fault.“ Mike taunts. „He just ran after me. Can I keep him, pa?“

 

„I didn‘t-“ Will most certainly didn‘t just run after Mike, but his protest is impossibly small against Hopper‘s hollering voice, when he says

 

„Don‘t make fun of me, kid!“ Getting up from the chair, he now towers over Will, looking almost twice as tall as the boy like that. „Checked if he‘s clean?“

 

Mike rolls his eyes at that. „Will you let him stay if I check?“ Not waiting for an answer, he roughly drags Will to the window. „Hold still.“ Mike orders. „Any parts of your body turned black and fallen off lately?“

 

„N-no.“ Will fearfully answers. „That‘s a thing?“

 

„Don‘t worry about it.“ What follows is mildly painful. Fingers clutch in Will‘s hair, force his head to one side, then to the other. Eventually, Mike even grabs at his nose and chin to force his mouth open. „No lice, no mold, no blisters... Hopper, he‘s clean.“

 

„Then keep him that way.“ the gruff man says. „And don‘t expect me to cut back on food. If he stays, you two are gonna share your portions.“

 

„I can talk too, you know.“ Will finally squeals defiantly. He just hates how high and fearful his voice sounds right now, but more than that he is fed up of the two talking about him as if he were some stray dog they either keep or put out of its misery.

 

A sarcastic smile spreads the man‘s face. „If that‘s all you can do...“

 

„It‘s not.“ Will protests. „I mean, I... I can do lots of things. Like... like I can read. And write. And I always got As in math.“

 

„Impressive.“ The way Hopper yawns tells Will, nothing about this is impressive at all.

 

„Okay...“ he contemplates. „I can... I can drive a car.“ In an open field, with wooden logs tied to his feet so he can reach the pedals.

 

„A soapbox, down a hill?“ Mike quips. „If you say so...“

 

There really is a sense of pride to the fact that Will can tell him „No. A real car. Back home Mr Melvald let me drive his Model T, and-“

 

„Model T!“ Mike yelps. „Jeez, my old granny can drive a Model T, and she‘s dead and buried. That‘s not a real car. Can‘t even shift gears, can you?“

 

At this point, Will is sure the other boy just wants to make fun of him out of spite. But he‘s not finished. „And I‘m a good shot.“

 

„Okay.“ Hopper shrugs. „He can read, write, count to ten. He‘s a driver without a car, a marksman without a gun... Wheeler, he‘s better than you when I found you. I mean, he was even smart enough to put on proper pants. You know...“ The man turns to Will. „That one was wearing shorts and knee socks when I came across him. Real high class school boy, with a tie and everything.“

 

Will weakly grins at a blushing Mike. Somehow, he can‘t really imagine him like that. Clean, clothed for school, and maybe as insecure and frightened as Will himself still feels.

 

„Don‘t let it get to your head.“ Mike threatens. „I‘m gonna rip you a new one if you ever laugh about me.“

 

„Hey!“ Hopper grumbles with a forceful slap to the back of Mike‘s head, that sends his cap flying across the room. „Manners! You brought him here, he‘s your responsibility. You‘re gonna keep him alive, got it? I‘m not cutting back on anything because of him.“

 

Mike glares at the man, but nods slowly.

 

„Good. Pick up that shit and start a fire. It‘s getting dark and I wanna eat.“

 

Obediently, Mike scrambles over to the corner to pick up his cap. He then drags Will outside. „First lesson. You got matches?“ he asks.

 

For a few seconds, Will just inspects the large empty yard in the back of the warehouse. It‘s old. Overgrown and cracked up, with two wrecked cars on the far side of it. Part of it is fenced, part is sealed off with a wall. All in all it‘s shielded from the streets or any houses pretty well. „Matches...“ he sighs. „Uh... no.“ Mike‘s palm against his head makes him understand, that‘s the wrong answer.

 

„Why not?“ he scolds. „Always carry matches. Lucky for you, I got some. Here.“ The box of matches from under Mike‘s cap lands in Will‘s hand. „We burn whatever wood we can find around town. Store it here by the gate. So... How would you start?“

 

Will looks at the wood, then at Mike. „Pa used old newspapers to get the-“ Wrong again, and Mike looks like he was just waiting for a chance to hit Will again. It hurts a bit more this time, but Will remains quiet.

 

„Idiot. Paper is your friend. You stuff it in your jacket to keep warm in the winter. You sleep under it if you don‘t have a blanket. Never burn paper if you can avoid it. It‘s June. Summer. Look around you.“

 

At closer inspection, Will can see patches of dried grass coming through the cracked up ground all over the yard. He points at it. „Should we use that?“

 

Mike nods, grinning. „I‘m a goddamn amazing teacher.“

 

* * *

 

„Here.“ Hopper says, throwing Will his now fixed shoes. All three of them are seated on pieces of cardboard around the fire, that is warming Will comfortably in the orange light of the setting sun. While it's a warm June, the fire is also emotionally comforting.

 

„Thank you.“ he mumbles, inspecting the fresh stitches that Hopper made to reattach the soles.

 

„Not water proof, but it‘ll do the trick for the summer. That black eye of yours...“

 

„It‘s fine. I‘ve had worse.“

 

Hopper nods. „Good. You‘re gonna put this to good use tomorrow.“

 

What good does a black eye do? How is he supposed to use it? Mike looks at Will with an expression that says _‚I‘m gonna explain later.‘_

 

„So what‘s your story.“ Slightly absent looking, the man uses a wooden spoon to stir in the can of beans he is heating up. „How‘d you get out here?“

 

Will‘s heart grows heavy at the question. It‘s not like he has anything to lose just from telling them. But thinking about it still hurts as much as it did three weeks ago. And even more than the past two years hurt him.

 

„Okay, I‘ll start.“ Mike offers. „Let‘s see... pa was a bomber pilot, shot down in the war... ma lost her mind over it... now I‘m here. Been with Hopper for little over a year.“

 

„A year...“ Will repeats weakly. He is a good enough observer to see when someone isn‘t telling the whole truth, but what good would pressuring Mike do?

 

„Yep.“ the man sighs. „Kid sticks to me like shit to a shovel. And now he‘s gonna learn how that feels like. Stay close to him, Byers.“

 

„I...“ Will takes a deep breath. In some way, Mike‘s backstory sound just as bad as his own. „I ran away.“

 

„No shit. Never would have guessed that.“

 

„Pa came back from the war. But he was different.“ he goes on. „Two years ago ma died. Pa said without the money she made at the store he couldn‘t feed us both. Me and my brother, Jonathan.“ The memory makes Will‘s throat sore. „Jonathan found work, but pa said the pay wasn‘t enough. Huge argument. So pa chased him away. Threatened to kill him if he comes back and whatnot...“

 

„And... you‘re here because...“ Mike whispers, suddenly slightly pale. At least, Will imagines that.

 

„Jonathan went to Indy. Last I heard from him was he worked at this auto shop. I think pa got rid of the letters he sent me. So I just... went out to find him.“ Will has never told anyone this, and somehow it feels good to get it off his chest. „But he‘s not here anymore. Found the shop, and the owner said he went to Nebraska. Even left a message for me because he knew a letter wouldn‘t reach me.“

 

„Smart kid, your brother.“ Hopper notes. „Nebraska, huh? We‘re gonna keep you alive here. But if you wanna leave to find him... Can‘t help you with that. We got ourselves a safe place here.“

 

Will‘s head hangs impossibly low now. „I‘m not gonna try. Not for a while. I know I‘m stuck here.“ It‘s been two years. Will can‘t even remember his brother‘s voice at this point. His insides have been screaming at him to somehow try and make his way to Nebraska, but that would be the stupidest thing he could do right now.

 

„Then you‘re staying. Hey you... happen to know what exactly your pa did in the war?“

 

„Didn‘t talk too much about it. Tattoo on his shoulder says _‚Vanguards‘_ , whatever that means.“ That‘s far too much thinking about his father for Will‘s taste.

 

He didn‘t expect Hopper to shudder. „That‘s 26th Infantry. He‘s been through hell, kid. I got lucky. 18th Airborne. Didn‘t have to storm the beach. But I bet he did.“

 

Well, if Lonnie Byers has really been through hell, then why has he made it his mission to bring said hell home with him? Will has wondered about that more than once. Curled up in a corner of his pa‘s tool shed, for days on end with no food and just a muddy puddle on the ground to drink from. He wondered if the scars would ever go away. If his teachers ever asked themselves why he sometimes didn‘t come to school for up to a week, and why he never rolled his sleeves up during the hottest of summer days. Did they just think _‚Loony Lonnie beat up his son again, but what can we do about it?'_ Or did they just not care?

 

* * *

 

The warm beans have left a heavenly satisfying feeling in Will‘s stomach. Now, lying on a piece of cardboard in the old, dark office, all he can hear is Hopper, snoring like a truck engine, and Mike, snoring more like a small motorbike. Will knows, unconsciousness from exhaustion is only minutes away. With every second, he finds himself caring less and less about his loneliness. About his fear of these strange people who only really seem to tolerate his presence. About how comfortable Mike‘s blanket looks, while Will has to be satisfied with a few layers of newspaper.

 

His eyes stay on Mike, who is half hidden under one of the two desks, leaving Will more out in the open. His cap is pulled down over his eyes, mouth hanging agape. Should Will like him? Does Mike like Will? Or does he just feel lucky to have a lap dog he can pass down the hits he takes from Hopper?

 

‚ _You‘re gonna put this to good use tomorrow.‘_ The man‘s words from earlier resurface in his swirling mind. Mike hasn‘t gotten to explain this to him. Well, he supposes he‘s going to learn soon enough how he can use a painful black eye to his advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Really gets my mind off my lack of inspiration.


	5. Honest Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. Mike's temper is terrible.

„Okay. Let‘s pick one out.“ The sun is blazing down on them as they peek around a corner to observe the busy women going from shop to shop. „No police in sight?“

 

Will cranes his neck in every direction. „Don‘t see any. Mike, I don‘t know-“

 

„You don‘t need to know shit!“ Mike cuts him off with yet another hit to his head. It‘s been less than twelve hours, but he seems to have found a hobby in shoving Will around. „Just do as you‘re told. There! There‘s one that looks good.“

 

„Good as in...“

 

„Promising. Jeez, Byers. What, you think I wanna get married or something?“

 

„Which one?“

 

„White dress with blue dots.“ Mike only points at the woman for a short moment, but it‘s enough for Will to notice her. She looks neat, from her clean dress, to her tidy hair and shoes. Everything about her says _‚moderate wealth‘_. Suddenly, Will‘s legs are close to giving in from sheer nervousness.

 

„Your turn, Byers.“ Mike whispers. „Think you can do it?“

 

Will sniffs a few times to get a feel for it. He scrunches his face just like Mike showed him earlier.

 

„Good enough.“ the other boy huffs. „You‘re gonna get better with time. Okay. Have at her.“ Roughly shoving Will out to the busy street, he adjusts his dirty cap.

 

Will walks with a limp. He thinks it looks more convincing that way. Maybe it covers for his fake crying. Stumbling towards the woman, he tries to make the impression of a boy who is struggling to keep the sobs in. It‘s shocking how fast the lady reacts. Must be the giant black eye, and now Will gets it.

 

„Oh god!“ she yelps. „You poor thing! What happened?“ Setting down the bag of groceries she was carrying, she crouches down to really look at Will. He just hopes she doesn‘t notice the lack of tears.

 

„M-m-my ma.“ he fake-sobs. „Can‘t find her. That m-man, he g-got me a-a-and-“

 

„A man got you?“ The shock is visible on her face. „Don‘t worry, dear. You‘re safe now.“

 

This is all going relatively well, but of course, Will has to mess it up. He sees Mike sneaking up behind the woman, and while he knows what he absolutely must not do, he does it anyways. Will can‘t help it. He is nervous. So, he keeps looking at Mike as the other boy reaches for the woman‘s bag, completely forgetting his lines. And that doesn‘t go unnoticed.

 

„Is there anything...“ The lady turns around, just in time to see Mike‘s fingers close around the paper bag. Suddenly screeching like a banshee she swings her purse, which hits Mike in the face with a loud _Thump!_ The groceries end up scattering all over the sidewalk, with Mike darting past the woman to pick up a shocked Will and pull him along. The commotion sets in when she screams „Thieves! Police! Someone stop them! There they are!“

 

Will runs. Mike runs. Together they shove people out of the way, dart across the street, forcing a few cars to come to a halt. Do they run for minutes, or hours? Will has no idea, but it certainly feels like hours. More than once they have to make sure no one is following them, before Mike finally calls for the end of their hasty escape.

 

He doesn‘t allow Will a second of rest. Furious as he is, Mike pushes him into a narrow alley where no one will see them. He‘s seething now, blood trickling from a small cut at his temple where the purse hit him. „Byers!“ he growls. „The hell was that? You wanna get us arrested?“

 

Will doesn‘t flinch away when he closes in. He doesn‘t fight. He just lets his head hang low, knowing that he really messed up. Mike‘s palm hits him once. Twice. A third time. Not in the scolding way it did earlier today. Mike is dealing some serious, painful blows to his head.

 

„Damn useless piece of shit!“ he presses through gritted teeth. „One thing! You‘re supposed to do one thing!“

 

„Sorry... sorry...“ Will whimpers at every hit. He means it. „Sorry...“

 

„Yeah?“ That seems to set off another wave of rage in Mike, as he pushes Will so hard, he trips over and lands on his back hard. His bones are screaming with pain. „Sorry won‘t cut it, Byers!“

 

Will‘s vision blurs, tears trickling from his uninjured eye, as he stares up at Mike.

 

„No.“ the black haired boy coldly says. „You don‘t look at me.“ His shoe connects with Will‘s upper thigh painfully. „What did I say?“

 

„You-“ Will sobs, but is cut short by another kick.

 

„No!“ Mike shouts. „No, no, no! Repeat after me! _‚I won‘t look at you, Mike!‘_.“

 

„I... won‘t...“ Will finds himself unable to say it through his hiccups. „...won‘t look... at you... Mike...“

 

„Then why are you still looking at me?“ Bowing down and pulling Will up by the collar of his shirt, Mike brings his face close. „Why the hell are you still looking at me?“

 

Will understands. He lowers his eye, letting all tension leave his body. He can‘t see Mike‘s face anymore, but the grim satisfaction practically radiates from the other boy. „Good.“ he says, pulling Will to his feet. „Because we‘re gonna try again. You mess up again, that‘s no food for you tonight.“

 

Will can feel his lower lip quivering. Pain has mixed with fear. Fear of being alone, of being hungry. He turns away from Mike to face the wall.

 

„Hey... cheer up, Byers, okay?“

 

„Hmm.“ he sniffs shakily.

 

„Let‘s see if we can find another one, huh?“ Mike offers, softening up his harsh tone a bit. „C‘mere. Your pick.“

 

The two of them are far enough from the place where they got caught to give it another shot without people recognizing them. This time, Will is determined to get it right. His face hardens palpably, which hurts his swollen eye. Just the sort of pain he needs right now. They peek around the corner. It‘s going to be risky. Around here there seem to be more men, not as many as in the afternoons though. Obviously, most men are at work right now.

 

Will checks out every woman he can make out, mind reeling over what might be telltale signs of a lucrative victim. What would such a woman look like? Expensive clothes. Good shoes. Clean, over all. And... „That one!“ Will proclaims, pointing his finger.

 

He can almost feel Mike grinning. „Why exactly that one?“

 

„Her shoes and dress are real fancy. And she‘s... she‘s having a baby, right?“ Will eyes the woman‘s bulging stomach. „So I guess she can‘t run after us. And she‘s gonna pity me.“

 

„You‘re a poor idiot. Everyone would pity you.“ Laughing quietly, Mike pats Will‘s shoulder. „But you‘re right. Think I can get in her purse?“

 

That‘s something Will hasn‘t thought about. The lack of grocery bags. All she is carrying is a purse. A fancy one, at that.

 

„How would I know?“

 

„Gee, thanks Byers. Just wanted you to give me some confidence, is all. This is gonna be hard.“ Is this Mike admitting to his own flaws?

 

„Okay, I think you can do it.“ Will says half-heartedly. He really is more concerned with his own performance. Now, the tears aren‘t a problem anymore at least. It‘s not hard to go back to crying right after receiving some fresh bruises all over his back and thighs.

 

So, with Mike‘s permission, he stumbles towards the pregnant woman, sobbing in earnest this time. He has to make sure she is the only one to actually talk to him, by all but collapsing onto his knees in front of her.

 

To Will‘s satisfaction she gasps. „What‘s wrong? Oh god, look at you!“ She even attempts to catch Will, but he does a pretty good job at holding himself on his feet while still acting exhausted.

 

„Ma‘am!“ he sobs. „I- I can‘t f-find my ma... lost her a-and then the m-man got me!“ This time, he notices Mike sneaking up from the corner of his eye without actually looking at him. The purse moves only slightly as the other boy slips his fingers inside.

 

„The man? What man?“ the lady asks him. Placing both hands on Will‘s shoulders, she inspects his bruised and swollen face. „Did he do this to you?“

 

„Y-yeah.“ Will whines pathetically. „B-but I got away. When he w-w-wasn‘t looking.“ Now it‘s only a matter of keeping her hooked until Mike is ready to make his getaway.

 

„How long...“ The woman swallows hard. „How long did he have you.“

 

„C-couple hours I think.“ Will now slowly quiets his sobbing, acting as though he is regaining control over himself. „Ma must still be l-looking for me round here.“ Yes! Mike, done with his handiwork, is now casually strolling past the woman.

 

She pays him no mind. To her, Mike is just another faceless kid in the streets. „Let‘s find a policeman then, sweetie.“

 

It‘s time for Will to make a run for it. He peeks up, pretending to scan the street behind her with his eyes. „There she is!“ he gasps. „Over there!“ That has her turning around, and Will has his chance to escape the scene.

 

He can hear her shouting after him, that he‘s going in the wrong direction, that he should be careful about the man, who might be still around. And because Mike was so careful, she probably still hasn‘t noticed her purse being empty when the two boys rejoin a few blocks away from her on a mostly empty street. The rush of adrenaline is exhilarating, the anticipation of what Mike found in her purse unbearable.

 

„Look!“ he pants. „Look at this.“ Waving a wallet in front of Will‘s face, he jumps from one foot to the other.

 

„Wallet.“ Will has to get his breathing under control. „Yeah. What‘s inside?“

 

Mike looks close to fainting when he looks inside. „Lettuce! Whole bunch of it!“

 

„Then count it!“ Will urges.

 

„Yeah yeah, I‘m on it! Get a grip on yourself, Byers.“ Mike‘s fingers dance inside the open wallet for a few seconds, until he proclaims „6 Dollars! Byers, we got ourselves 6 Dollars! And that‘s not counting the coins!“

 

Now, it‘s not only Mike. Will feels close to fainting too. It‘s not all happy dizziness, though. The pain really catches up to him.

 

* * *

 

Hopper is snoring just as terribly as last night. Will is lying awake. Mike might be too, as Will can‘t hear him making any sound. He doesn‘t know what‘s keeping the other boy up, but for Will, it‘s his bruised thigh. He just can‘t seem to get comfortable on his thin layer of cardboard.

 

That doesn‘t overshadow the joy of the past few hours. 3 Dollars each. Candy for 25 Cents is now dissolving in his stomach. Delicious chocolate, toffee, and a few gumdrops. All things Will can't remember having in the last two years. Hopper seemed satisfied with the 2 Dollars of change they found in the wallet. He acquires his own money anyways, and whatever Mike and Will get their hands on should be theirs, according to Hopper. In the end it was worth it, Will decides. Even if he got hurt.

 

„Byers?“ a hushed voice comes through the dark. „You up?“

 

„Yeah.“

 

„Why?“

 

„It just... just hurts a bit. Not that bad.“ Will whispers. „It‘s okay. I messed up. Deserved it.“

 

Mike lets out a long breath. „Y‘know, we wouldn‘t have come across that lady if you hadn‘t messed up.“

 

„Maybe.“

 

The silence that follows is long. For some reason, Will‘s bottom lip begins quivering halfway through it. Curling up on his less bruised side, he pulls his knees up to his chest, and the newspaper he uses for a blanket over his head. He stays like this for maybe five or ten minutes, fighting to bite back tears.

 

„Byers? You still up?“

 

„Yeah.“

 

„Listen I‘m... I shouldn't... I just had to...“ Mike shakily sighs. „For a rookie you did a good job today. Try to sleep.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember crying a bit when I wrote this.


	6. Where are we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter ahead, but who knows? I might put out another one today, just because I can.

24 hours in a day.

 

7 days in a week.

 

4 weeks in a month.

 

That‘s where Will is now. A month spent with his two mentors. He is proud to say, he is learning. Learning how to find food if he is out of money, including which food he should avoid if he can. Mostly hamburgers, apparently, because, according to Mike, _‚ground meat is goddamn dangerous if it‘s been in a dumpster‘_. He is careful to look for useful things. Newspaper. Rich people in fancy clothes. Firewood. He learns that almost everything can be put to use one way or another. He learns to scan for police quicker than he ever thought possible. Most importantly, he learns to avoid shelters and churches, even if it‘s tempting to use their offers. They tend to turn homeless children over to the police.

 

And, whenever he doesn‘t learn, he gets to suffer the consequences immediately. Will is pretty much alone with Mike most of the time. Hopper leaves it up to the black haired boy to show him around town, and only joins them on their daily endeavors once a week at best so they can pull of a more elaborate scam. That doesn‘t mean he doesn‘t keep track of Will‘s progress, though. If he isn‘t satisfied with it, Mike gets to feel that. And then Will gets to feel it too, of course, because whatever Hopper does to Mike is immediately relayed to Will. It‘s like the back of his head is now permanently numb from all the blows it has taken.

 

They are running. They are almost always running. Wherever they want to go, Will and Mike just feel like they don‘t have any time to waste. And, hell, kids can do that if they want. Sure, this ends with scraped knees more than once for Will, but that‘s a small trade-off for saving precious time.

 

„Okay, Byers!“ Mike gasps, stopping dead in his tracks. „Where are we?“

 

„It‘s... we‘re...“ Will is having a hard time with this whole orientation thing. He goes over it in his mind again, envisioning every turn they have taken in these past minutes. _Fisher... 22nd... Winton... Allison... Fisher again..._ Looking at the neat houses of this residential area, Will finally pipes up „McCray.“

 

A blow to his head makes him understand, he couldn‘t be further from the truth. „Wrong!“ Mike snaps. „It‘s Auburn. See that?“ He points down the street to where cars are rushing by in a blur. „That‘s 25th.“

 

„Auburn. 25th...“ Will repeats, adding these to his mental map of the area. „Okay.“

 

„Next question. Which direction is home?“

 

Mike got Will there. He has absolutely no idea, and since he has to guess, he already prepares for the inevitable slap to the head when he points in a random direction.

 

Will is absolutely shocked by himself, when his instincts suddenly kick in. Mike‘s flat hand nears his head, and he just jumps out of the way. _Oh no_. People don‘t like that. At least, pa didn‘t. Whenever Will dodged his fists, it only made him angrier. His eyes grow wide with fear as soon as Mike‘s hand hits at nothing. Will is gonna get it now. Mike rarely beats him up, and it‘s never too bad. Still, he‘d like to avoid more hits.

 

But Mike makes no attempt at hurting Will again. It‘s almost as if something like pride that steals onto his face instead. Him ruffling Will‘s hair is still mildly painful. But it also feels good. Somehow relieving. Even warm. When Will looks at Mike and his crooked smile, he feels elated beyond communication. He really _is_ proud. As always, there‘s something else hiding behind his eyes, though. Something Will can‘t ever seem to grasp.

 

Mike then points towards the busy street that‘s 25th. „That‘s north.“ He turns to point approximately south-west. „Home is over there. Keep track of where you are. Now...“ Mike‘s grin widens, showing off the gap in his teeth. Will only gets one or two seconds to admire his excellent orientation. „If we go north to 25th... and then east... where do we end up?“

 

Now, that‘s something Will knows exactly. „Motor Speedway.“ he says excitedly.

 

„Wanna see if they‘re training?“

 

What a pointless question. Watching screaming cars go in circles faster than lightning? Of course Will wants that. So, they make a run for it.

 

* * *

 

Summer is blistering. And still, the campfire is a welcome nightly custom to Will. It provides food. Good food, even if it‘s canned. The money he and Mike make with their pickpocketing adventures, and the money Hopper manages to come up with one way or another, allows for a can of something a day. It‘s always hot, always satisfying... but rarely meat. That would just be too expensive.

 

Tonight, Hopper is obviously drunk. Sure, he is always drinking, but tonight he‘s had a bit too much. Evident by his rambling, that seems so out of place with this otherwise so taciturn man.

 

„Yep. It really gets cold out here in the winter. Ask Wheeler. He‘s been through it. But...“ Hopper points his finger up. By the dim light of the fire it casts a long shadow on his bearded face.

 

„But...“ Will repeats.

 

„But there are colder places. Tell him, Wheeler.“

 

„There are colder places, Byers.“ Mike rolls his eyes, and whispers to Will „Just let him talk and at least pretend to listen.“

 

„O-okay... I...“

 

„Colder places!“ Hopper growls. „Exactly! The Ardennes! Ever been there? Course you haven‘t. Damn, you‘ll never know! Feels like shit when your fingers are too numb to pull the trigger! Krauts coming at you from every direction. You‘ve been living in the snow for weeks. All you see is white and red. And you know what, kid?“

 

„N-no. What?“

 

The man‘s voice turns threateningly low. „You see your friends mad as a hatter, trying to keep their guts from falling out. All just calling for their mommies at home. And you piss your pants. Everyone pisses their pants. And because it‘s so cold, your piss just freezes right then and there. What‘s it good for? Wheeler! What‘s it good for?“

 

„Nothing?“ Mike offers, leaning back. He‘s looking way too relaxed the way he is letting smoke pour out of his nostrils. It‘s obvious, it‘s not the first time he‘s hear this. „Absolutely nothing.“

 

„He gets it!“ Hopper yells, startling Will. „They put you through basic training. Kick you out of a plane in the dead of night. Parachute gets caught in a tree, breaks your goddamn legs. Then you end up digging holes in the frozen ground. Fight in these holes, shit in these holes, bury your dead in these holes.“

 

His speech is growing increasingly slurred. Eventually, he sighs, defeated. „Don‘t listen to me, kid. Shit wasn‘t for nothing. We had to fight. Help those people. Don‘t wanna tell you your pa came back like this for no good reason.“ Hopper then just tips over right on the spot, landing on his back with a loud _thump_ and a snore that rattles in the night air like a sawmill.

 

„Okay.“ Mike flips the cigarette butt into the fire. „He‘s out for tonight. Wanna go to sleep?“

 

Until now, Will didn‘t even notice his hands trembling. „N-no. Not really.“

 

„Me neither. You okay, Byers?“

 

„I‘m good.“ Will‘s hoarse throat betrays him, though.

 

„Hey, I know something. Wait here.“ Will does wait. Approximately 20 seconds. That‘s all it takes for Mike to be back, a not too thick, dark green book in hand, that looks like it has seen better days. He didn‘t even know Mike owns any books. „Hopper‘s.“ he explains. „Didn‘t think he was much of a reader, huh?“

 

„Never thought of it.“ Will admits. „What is it?“

 

„Bet you already know it.“ Mike flips the book open by the light of the fire and begins to read out loud. Will, leaned against the outside wall of the old warehouse, listens intently. „ _You don‘t know about me, without you have read a book by the name of ‚The Adventures of Tom Sawyer‘, but that ain‘t no matter.“_

 

As a matter of fact, Will doesn‘t know it. Doesn‘t know it, as in _he knows it exists_ , he just never had a chance to read it. And now Mike does it for him. It‘s not a particularly long book, and while Will has to keep the fire going, he can lose himself in the story a little. Even over the passed out man‘s heavy snoring. Mike does such a good job with the voices, Will sometimes closes his eyes and thinks he might really sit next to an escaped slave.

 

He doesn‘t really enjoy the bits about Huck‘s father, but somehow he has to grin at them too. Will made his escape, just like Huck Finn. He‘s here, out on the streets with Mike and Hopper, safer than he has ever been in the two years since his mother died.

 

It‘s with a small pang that he realizes, it can‘t always go on like this. He still has to find Jonathan, no matter what it takes. He‘s learning the skills he needs. He‘s putting aside what little money he can get. It‘s an unspoken truth, but well known to all three of them, that Will is probably gonna try to set off for Ravenna in Nebraska next spring. With a bit of luck, Jonathan is still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story might really be growing on me. Comments appreciated, by the way.


	7. Play Time's Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but hey, two in a day, right?  
> This is really just boys being boys for once.

„Private!“

 

Will chews on his bottom lip in nervous anticipation.

 

„Private! Private Byers!“ The voice is something of a forceful whisper. Will knows exactly why. The enemy could be anywhere around here, and the two of them are all alone.

 

He jolts in his crouched position a bit. „Yes, sir?“ The weight of his rifle seems to be dragging him down by now.

 

Sergeant Wheeler cranes his neck, inspecting their surroundings. „Do you see anything?“

 

„No, sir. It‘s too quiet, isn‘t it?“

 

„Dunno.“ his commanding officer says. „I mean, they don‘t know we‘re here. Probably sleeping soundly, those damn Krauts.“

 

Will lets out a short burst of laughter, muffled by his hand. The Sergeant is right. The sun has just started rising on the horizon. Most of the sky is still pitch black. „Then we gotta keep it that way.“

 

„Can‘t.“ Sergeant Wheeler grunts. „Invasion is set for 0700. We gotta take out their communication before that. If they call in air support, our boys are gonna have a hard time.“

 

„I know, sir.“

 

„Good. Then follow me. Watch out for mines or tripwire.“

 

„Sir... there‘s civilians all over this town. You think the Germans would actually-“

 

They slowly get going, keeping their heads down to avoid detection. „Goddammit, Private. Bastards don‘t care for civilians. And we can‘t take care of them either. Just try not to shoot any.“

 

Will nods slowly. He peeks around a corner to find the next alley completely deserted. „Clear.“ he whispers.

 

„Good. Gotta find the center of town.“

 

That‘s easier said than done, Will reckons. These small French villages are confusing as hell, and the two of them sticking to back alleys doesn‘t make orientation easier. They sneak silently, unheard and unseen, until Will is stopped abruptly by a strong arm in front of him.

 

„Look, Private!“ The Sergeant points at a four-story building right around the corner. „That‘s it. The Krauts‘ communications outpost. Third floor. See that balcony?“

 

„Yes, sir. Think we can engage?“

 

„Doesn‘t matter if we can.“ The commanding officer narrows his eyes. „We have to, Byers. I‘ll get over there. You stay covered right here. On the count of three, we open fire. Walls shouldn‘t be too thick to shoot through.“

 

Will‘s heart suddenly picks up pace. He readies his rifle, knowing full well what‘s about to come. The Sarge carefully makes his way to the low wall a bit closer to the building. His voice is barely loud enough for Will to hear when he props his elbows on the wall for a steady aim. „Three... two... one... Open fire!“ he shouts.

 

It seems like all hell is suddenly breaking loose. Gunshots ring out, one by one, interrupted by the click of the bolt when Will pulls it back in between shots.

 

„Cease fire! Dammit, it‘s no use!“ Sergeant Wheeler seems furious. „They really got this place fortified. Got any grenades on you, Byers?“

 

„Sir... the civilians.“

 

„Oh quit it, Private! Told you we can‘t take care of them! Grenade up there!“ He points at the balcony again. „Right now!“

 

„Yes, sir.“ Will pulls the pin out of the small frag grenade, and uses all the strength and precision he can muster to launch it up to the balcony.

 

_Crack!_

 

Oh no! Will pales at the sight of a window shattering into a million pieces when the large rock he just threw thrashes through it. He can almost hear Mike‘s breath catching in his throat. The boys remain frozen in shock, even when all lights in the house turn on at once.

 

It‘s the old man who sets them off. A white-haired, scrawny looking man in a dirty white undershirt steps onto the balcony, cane in hand. „Ya damn bastards!“ he yells with a hitching voice. „Wait ‘til I get down there. Yeah! You!“ He points at Mike with his cane. „Ya think I don‘t see ya behind that wall? I‘ma rip ya in two, mark my words!“

 

Mike suddenly stands up straight. He faces the man. The old guy seems to be about to stare Mike to death, when the black haired boy quips „That‘s what you get for hiding Nazis in your house, dumb old geezer!“

 

And then he runs. Just as Will runs. In these early morning hours the streets are deserted. Empty and quiet, but the old man‘s screams about _‚Years of hard work!‘_ , _‚A good paddling!‘_ and the _‚Disrespectful youth!‘_ are still echoing after them five minutes later.

 

The place they end up at, Will recognizes it as Fort Harrison Park, is even darker than the streets. The rising sun doesn‘t quite cut through the thick trees yet, so Mike and Will collapse in the dark, heavy panting switching for loud laughter.

 

„Have you seen his face?“ Mike gasps. „Byers, I swear to god, he was hell-bent on murder! Good job wrecking his window!“

 

„Not funny!“ Will bursts out through fits of laughter. „Not funny! That was scary!“

 

„Why? What‘s he supposed to do, rat you out to your parents? Hey, y‘know... you‘re getting real good with the sounds.“

 

Will inspects the stick he is still carrying. Minutes ago, it was a rifle. Now it‘s back to being a regular, old, crooked tree branch that maybe somehow resembles a rifle. „Really?“

 

„Totally. That machine gun? Really sounded like in the movies.“

 

Will quiets down a bit at that. „Maybe...“

 

He could swear he can see Mike‘s eyes growing wide. „What, you‘ve never been to the movies?“

 

„I...“ A blush steals on Will‘s face. „Pa said it‘s not worth the money.“ Actually, he said _‚You‘re not worth the money‘_ , but Mike needn‘t know everything. He got the important bits. The movie theater at home has always been just out of reach for Will.

 

Then, a silence ensues. Long. Uncomfortable. Pressing. The first beams of sunlight pierce the treetops, and Will finds Mike towering over him all of a sudden. He doesn‘t whine or protest when the other boy‘s palm comes in contact with his head in the usual fashion, though he flinches at the sudden pain. He still does that sometimes, even after more than three months of this treatment.

 

„That‘s for costing an old man a bunch of money. Play time‘s over, Byers. Gotta go to work. Early bird something something.“

 

Will smiles faintly. „Try our luck on 33rd?“

 

„Good boy.“ Mike laughs. „Lead the way.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> This is gonna be over either tomorrow or two days from now so... I'm thinking about writing a sequel, but only if my inspiration for 'It's the doubt.' doesn't return soon. What I can promise, though, is that I'm never (NEVER!) going to abandon a fic. Especially not 'It's the doubt.'. Just wanted to make that clear.


	8. Silver Screen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took two days. But work comes first. That's just how it is, people.

„Hey, Hopper?“ Mike is greedily slurping away on his canned tomato soup.

 

„Hm?“ A few trickles of red get caught the man‘s beard.

 

„Byers and I got something to do in town tonight. Lock yourself in if you want. We‘ll be fine.“

 

Will‘s breath hitches. Something to do in town? This is literally the first time he‘s heard of this. He was already preparing for a night of sleep on uncomfortable cardboard, and now this? What could be in town that can‘t wait until tomorrow?

 

Hopper grumbles. „And you‘re not gonna tell me what you‘re up to?“

 

„Can‘t.“ Mike muses. „I mean, I‘d have no problem with it. But I don‘t want Byers to know.“

 

„That‘s nice.“ Will snorts. „Talking about me as if I wasn‘t here.“

 

„Do what you have to do.“ Hopper pretty much ignores Will‘s protest.

 

„You‘re not gonna stop us? Isn‘t it dangerous at night?“

 

„Stop you?“ The man raises his eyebrows, while Mike laughs at Will‘s seemingly naive question. „It‘s a free country, isn‘t it? And you two know your way around this place just as good as I do.“

 

„Mike, what are we gonna do?“ Will turns to the other boy.

 

„What, you deaf, Byers? I said I‘m not gonna tell you. It‘s a surprise.“

 

That does it for Will. He can‘t figure out how he is supposed to feel now? Satisfied, because if the hot tomato soup that‘s filling him up? Anxious for a trip around the city at night? Excited for this alleged surprise? He settles for all at once

 

„Surprise or not...“ Hopper leans back comfortably, picking up bits of dirt out of his dinged up harmonica. „...you know what that means for when you get back here.“

 

„Yeah yeah.“ Mike waves it off. „Told you, it‘s okay. You‘re locking yourself in the office, we‘re not waking you up.“

 

„You got it, kid.“

 

* * *

 

„Can‘t you just tell me?“ Will‘s feet carry him through the streets, that are, surprisingly, abuzz with life after sundown. It‘s mostly young people now, Will observes. He has never seen so many colorful lights anywhere before, and the whole scenery isn‘t even remotely as frightening as he has imagined beforehand.

 

It‘s actually a quite adventurous experience. Will could have never done this at home, go out at night, see places he wants to see. Locked either in his room or the tool shed at night, he never got to see anything like this. Not that anything like this even exists in the little town of Hawkins.

 

„Not gonna tell you.“ Mike insists. „You‘re just gonna have to come and see. But I‘ll have to warn you.“

 

„Warn me of what?“

 

„I haven‘t done this in a while. If Steve is gone, we can go straight back home.“

 

„Who is Steve?“ Will pants heavily now, dizzied by the many turns they take.

 

„You‘re gonna find out soon enough. We‘re almost there.“ Together, they approach a rather large, rectangular building from the back. „This is it. Last time I was here... must‘ve been four months back... I came from the front. But, y‘know.“

 

„Know what?“ Will eyes Mike‘s excited expression suspiciously.

 

„Let‘s just see if we can get in. We should be just on time. Let‘s hope Steve‘s still here.“ There‘s a rusted metal door right in the back, flush with the brick wall in shape and color so that it‘s almost invisible in the dark. Mike knocks on it. _Knock knock... pause... knock... pause... knock knock knock._

 

The sound seems to echo in a hallway be hind that door. Footsteps. A voice. „Password?“

 

„Uh... Fox?“ Mike offers.

 

„Wrong.“

 

„Universal?“

 

„Wrong!“

 

„Oh what the hell, Harrington. Let me in you poor bastard. I know you need the money.“ Mike looks and sounds slightly exasperated.

 

„Wheeler?“ The voice comes back. „That you?“

 

„Yeah it‘s me. And I brought someone along. You want the money, or what?“

 

„Money?“ Will whispers. „What‘s this about, Mike?“

 

„Don‘t worry.“ Mike whispers back. „This one‘s on me. Because you‘re an even poorer bastard than Harrington.“

 

The metal door finally creaks open, and now it slowly begins to dawn on Will. In front of them appears a boy, maybe sixteen, Jonathan‘s current age, clad in a dark red velvet uniform, complete with gold buttons and a small hat. „Wheeler.“ he says.

 

„Harrington.“ Mike pushes Will a step towards the boy. „Will Byers, Steve Harrington.“ he introduces the two. „Steve is gonna help us with something. What‘s on tonight, Harrington?“

 

Steve Harrington stiffens, adjusting his hat. In his best announcer voice, he proclaims „Only tonight, 10pm, our classic Universal double feature, _Frankenstein_ and _Bride of Frankenstein_ , the gripping tale of a man‘s fatal hubris and blasphemy. 1 Dollar at the front entrance...“ He bows down to them, smirking. „...10 Cents for discount tickets.“

 

Shaking his head, Mike hands Steve 20 Cents. „You‘re made for this job, Harrington.“

 

„I‘m gonna see a movie...“ Will chokes out in disbelief as Steve makes way for them to enter.

 

„Two movies, actually. Wheeler, where‘d you find that kid?“

 

Mike, already halfway down the dark hall, stops dead in his tracks, as if just remembering something. It‘s been close to three months since the day he saved Will‘s life, and yet he asks „Steve... you seen that guy Troy around lately?“

 

„Not in months.“ is Steve‘s answer. Will and Mike haven‘t encountered him either. „And that‘s a goddamn blessing if you ask me. Chased away all my customers. You got something to do with that?“

 

Mike‘s shoulders pull up once, then slump. „Might‘ve killed him. Don‘t know. Doesn‘t matter, I guess. Uh... Byers, you just gonna stand there?“

 

No, Will isn‘t just gonna stand there. He lets Steve guide him down the hall, until the three of them reach what looks like a dark, dirty room. Wooden floor, three brick walls, and... one pearly white wall. A bunch of children, all as dirty as Will and Mike, are already sprawled out on the floor.

 

„Five minutes.“ Steve hushes. „Be quiet.“

 

„What is this?“ Will finally whispers to Mike. The 20 or more other kids don‘t really seem to mind the two of them. Some look up, but they‘re widely ignored.

 

„Used to be a theater.“ Mike whispers back. „Some point they just hung that screen there, and now they‘re showing movies. Steve works here. Letting us in is like his extra buck. Because he doesn‘t really get tipped a lot.“

 

„So, this used to be the stage.“ Will deduces, tapping the wooden boards they‘re standing on with his foot.

 

„Yeah. Wanna sit down?“

 

They do sit down, just exactly where they‘ve been standing. Far away from the screen, because, as Mike explains, being a bit further away won‘t get you a stiff neck in the end. Will of course understands he has to be quiet right now. The movie hasn‘t started yet, so the audience on the other side of the screen might hear them if they‘re too loud.

 

* * *

 

What Will gets to see that night is just unbelievable. It‘s people, like in photos, just ten times taller than himself, moving and talking. And it‘s also terrifying. What is there not to fear about a mad scientist robbing graves, stitching up a new body out of rotting human remains? Or about said body coming to life, emotionless but murderous.

 

More than once, Will‘s fingers dig into Mike‘s shoulder. Especially once the monster learns to talk. It sends shivers of unknown intensity down Will‘s spine. But Mike always shrugs his hand off, sometimes with a light slap to the head.

 

„I swear to god, if you can‘t sleep tonight because you‘re scared...“ he hisses. „I sure as hell won‘t go easy on you tomorrow. Still gotta work for a living.“

 

Will only smiles to himself. Of course he‘s going to work. He‘s going to pickpocket, dig through dumpsters, he‘s going to do _everything_. Yes, Will‘s spirits are that high.

 

* * *

 

„We‘re not gonna sleep in the office, right?“

 

„Right.“ Mike shrugs. „Not gonna wake Hopper up to let us in.“ They both scan the large, empty warehouse for a few seconds. „Ah, there it is. I knew it.“

 

„What?“

 

„Here.“ Mike walks over to the corner right next to the small office building where Hopper has locked himself in for the night. „He left some stuff out here.“

 

Will sees it too, then. Mostly cardboard to sleep on. But also a bunch of newspapers and a thick, but dirty blanket. Will still doesn‘t have one for himself. Things like blankets are hard to find out here. In the beginning, this wasn‘t a real problem.

 

It was May when he left his home, and June when he came across Mike. Back then nights were warm, Newspaper was enough to serve as a blanket. Now it‘s October, though, and while the office might be still warm enough, the drafty hall might become a cold hell tonight.

 

„Hey... Byers?“ Mike proceeds to set up their small camp for the night.

 

„Yeah?“

 

„C‘mere.“

 

Will obliges. He always does. Mike‘s word is law to him. And that‘s a good thing, because seconds later he finds himself huddled under the blanket together with the other boy. „T-thank you.“ he mumbles.

 

„Like I‘m gonna let you freeze to death.“ Mike snorts.

 

„I mean for tonight. Like... I‘ve never seen anything like it before.“

 

„Yeah, I know. That‘s goddamn embarrassing. Can‘t hang around someone who‘s never seen a movie.“ Mike brings his hand up to lightly slap at Will‘s head again, then turns his back on him under the blanket.

 

„I‘m not gonna be scared tonight, y‘know.“ Will sighs.

 

„Really? Then go to sleep before I put you to sleep. We got about 4 hours.“

 

And Will goes to sleep, faster than he thought possible. It‘s a cold October night, but he feels warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I still feel the pacing of this whole fic is super weird. Whatever. I still like the basic premise and I might really write a sequel at some point.


	9. Getting Gear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this into two parts. Just because the editing I'm doing on this final chapter is really heavy since I want it to lead the way to a sequel.

„Aren‘t you nervous about this whole thing?“

 

Mike skips forwards on his right leg, then on his left. His breath is clouding in the cold early November air just like Will‘s. „I trust Hopper.“ he simply says. „Besides, we‘re gonna freeze if we don‘t do it. You weren‘t here last winter. That was absolute hell.“ He is probably right with that. Nights are already unbearable, and days aren‘t exactly better, even though it‘s not really winter yet. They need gear. Blankets. Jackets. Gloves.

 

„Yeah.“ Will sighs. „I was just thinking-“ He is interrupted by Mike‘s hand landing painfully on his temple.

 

„Byers... 5 months. Haven‘t you learned anything? What did we say about thinking?“

 

„I‘m... I‘m not supposed to think.“ Will mumbles to himself.

 

„At least not when I tell you to do something. Whatever I say, you‘re gonna do it anyways.“

 

„Yeah.“ Will snaps at that. „And whatever Hopper says, _you‘re_ gonna do it anyways. Right?“

 

Mike snorts. „I‘m my own master.“ He then reaches over to unpleasantly ruffle Will‘s hair. „I just agree with Hopper most of the time. We‘re gonna get you a hat, Byers. That‘s what makes a real man.“ He flops his dirty cap off, making Will flinch at the sight. Since they‘ve taken to cutting each others‘ hair, it‘s probably for the best to get one for himself soon. Mike looks messy like that, and Will probably does too.

 

„Was that your idea?“

 

„What, the pockets?“ Mike picks the small pack of cigarettes from one of the hidden pockets in his cap. „Yep. I‘m a goddamn genius. Want one?“

 

Will shrugs, taking the cigarette, a crummy looking self rolled one. They pool their money for tobacco now. For once, Mike and Will are not running. They‘re on their way back to the warehouse, and there is no real need to hurry. Still, a fire and a warm meal is an amazing promise after a long day of trying to get into people‘s pockets.

 

The smoke fills his lungs, causing him that slight dizziness, the relaxation he desires, and a bit of relief from his hunger. Will smiles nervously at the prospect of what‘s to come. It‘s necessary.

 

Today‘s earnings are just little over a Dollar. Well, it can‘t always be a good day.

 

* * *

 

„Okay.“ Hopper grunts through his canned corn. Will hugs himself close, rubbing his arms. The wind is harsh tonight, and he is already as close to the small fire as possible. „This year, we‘re gonna be better prepared. You‘re both in on the plan because we‘re gonna have to carry a lot of stuff. I‘d do it alone if-“

 

„Hey.“ Mike starts complaining. „You wanna say you don‘t really trust us, or what?“

 

„I‘m saying there‘s a risk.“ Hopper says darkly. „It‘s not like your everyday street corner scam, kid. We‘ll be walking right into a potential trap.“

 

His words only help to increase Will‘s anxiousness. A half year ago he might have thought breaking in to a store is wrong. That taking from people would make him a bad person. Now, it‘s really just fear of getting caught, and even that is overshadowed by _cold_. So, in the end Will is glad they‘re doing it tonight.

 

„And what do you think we‘d do without you?“ Mike empties his bowl noisily. „I mean, if you got caught or something.“

 

„You got the skills.“ the man shrugs. „You got it all, kid. You know how to survive out here.“

 

Something like pride shows on Mike‘s face, but only for a second. Will knows how he feels. They can‘t lose Hopper. It would be their end, now that winter is almost here. Mike doesn‘t say anything else, instead grumbling to himself. Will doesn‘t either; arguing is no use. Hopper already said they‘re in this together, and further words are just a means of relieving tension. But maybe they need some tension to stay on alert.

 

* * *

 

„This is it?“ Will whispers.

 

„This is it.“ Hopper confirms. Will can barely see him in the dark, even though he is standing mere feet away from him. „I‘ve scouted the area. We gotta be careful, the owner lives in that apartment right above the store. So, be sneaky.“

 

Will and Mike both look at the large sign that proclaims _‚Cal‘s Camping Gear‘_. Without saying anything else, it tells tales of sleeping bags, hats, gloves, and other wonderful items to keep them warm through the worst months of the year.

 

„Sneaky is my middle name.“ Mike snickers quietly.

 

„Really...“ Hopper sighs. „Watch your step in there. I wanna get out without raising attention.“

 

Mike shoots back „ _You_ watch your step. How much did you have tonight?“

 

In response, Hopper reaches into his pocket and shakes his metal flask in front of Mike‘s face to prove it‘s still full. „I‘m sober.“

 

„Then have a sip.“ Mike insists. „You‘re gonna be shaking all over if you don‘t.“

 

The man‘s face drops, and he pulls the two of them towards the store entrance. „I might have had _some_.“ he admits. „Couldn‘t pick the damn lock with trembling hands now, could I?“ He goes to work on the lock right then, with Mike and Will keeping an eye on the deserted street around them. It‘s far from optimal. The electric streetlights basically has them standing on full view of every window on the other side of the street.

 

It doesn‘t take long before it clicks audibly. „Got it.“ Hopper announces under his breath. Will already cheers internally, but Mike‘s hand clutching painfully into his shoulder pulls him back down.

 

„Shit!“ the other boy hisses. „Look!“

 

Will does look, and his heart turns cold as ice. Two figures are approaching. He can‘t make out any features on them in terms of clothing or faces. They‘re too far away for that, and they haven‘t seen the little group yet.

 

„Quick!“ Hopper orders. „Get inside!“ He doesn‘t wait for them to do anything, instead opting to push them into the dark store. „Take what you can! Try the cash register too!“

 

The very second the darkness engulfs Will entirely, a voice speaks up outside. „Hey! IPD! What are you doing there?“ The door slams shut, and Hopper isn‘t with them.

 

„No!“ Mike whispers. „What are we gonna do?“

 

In a sudden burst of panic, Will darts across the room. It‘s all here. All they need. Under Mike‘s absent gaze he scrambles to get as many items as he can. Three sleeping bags. A bunch of blankets. He has even found a hat for himself, when Mike finally jumps into action, attempting to pry open the cash register.

 

Meanwhile, Hopper seems to be caught in a talk with the police. „Sir, step away from the door!“

 

„Of course, Officer.“ Hopper apparently complies to buy them some time. Mike stuffs his pockets with money from the register. Will piles up whatever useful stuff he can find. From behind, he feels Mike lowering a hat on him, and even manages to crack a smile. But the panic washes it away quickly. How are they supposed to get out?

 

„Sir, were you attempting to break into this store?“

 

„Officer, I would never-“

 

„Sure. Turn around! You‘re under arrest.“

 

Will‘s eyes are now picking with tears. They‘re going to come inside. Once they got Hopper arrested, they‘ll have to check up on the store. „We have to do something.“ he tells Mike.

 

„I know! I know!“ the other boy hisses. „Let‘s... let‘s...“ He takes a deep breath. „Okay. Leave everything.“

 

„What, the stuff? N-no, we can‘t-“ Mike‘s hand collides with Will‘s head painfully.

 

„Either the sleeping bags, or Hopper!“ he grunts. „Just... open the door for me!“

 

The idea isn‘t half bad, at least not in their current situation. The two Officers don‘t know about Will and Mike as it seems, so they might be able to take them by surprise.

 

So, Will pulls open the door. And Mike just charges outside, Will following immediately. He can see the surprise on the younger Officer‘s face when Mike all but jumps at him, headbutting him right on the nose. Hopper reacts quicker than Will thought possible. One hand already handcuffed, he rips himself away from the older policeman‘s grip. His fist comes in contact with the other man‘s forehead.

 

But Will can‘t think. His brain pretty much malfunctions at that very moment, and so he decides to help Hopper, although Mike probably needs his help more. A cacophony of shouts and grunts fills the air.

 

While Will is choking the older Officer from behind from a piggy bag position, he can make out a body landing hard on the street next to him. The younger Officer, nose bleeding heavily, has managed to shrug Mike off.

 

Hopper is momentarily stunned from a blow to the face, but Mike is quick to scramble back to his feet, not without taking some kicks from the policeman he is fighting. Will watches in desperation. He has to help Mike. But he can‘t let go of the man right now. Not as long Hopper is on the ground.

 

Every punch Mike takes to the stomach hurts Will equally. He doesn‘t even registers the way the Officer he is choking bruises his arm by digging his fingernails into it.

 

_Bang!_

 

Orange lightning flashes in the street. A deafening explosion ripples down the rows of houses. It leaves Will‘s ears ringing, his mind confused at what just happened. Mike is standing up straight. The young Officer is lying down on his back. He is bleeding. Not just from his broken nose, where Mike hit him earlier. A puddle of blood rapidly expands from right under his writhing body, and even more sputters from his wide open mouth and his gargling throat. His holster is empty, the revolver in Mike‘s shaking hand.

 

That very moment, even though Will‘s grip around the other Officer‘s throat loosens subconsciously, the man sinks to his knees, due to the impact of Hopper‘s fist. He is knocked out cold, and Will reckons that‘s his luck. Because his younger colleague is dead. His body has gone from shivering to limp, his eyes are wide open without ever blinking, just staring into the night sky.

 

Mike, on the other hand, is blinking more than usual. With his shoulders pulled up, he just stands there. His hand comes up to wipe at his face. There‘s so much blood, it‘s everywhere, all over his clothes, and Will feels the need to vomit.

 

„Take what you can and get out of here!“ Hopper shouts. His voice comes from far away, through a haze of a high pitched ringing sound.

 

But, miraculously, Mike and Will both react the way they‘re supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may have been inspired by the music video to Guilt Trip by PUP.


	10. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Final chapter! Holy cow! I actually turned this into something I don't hate!

Finally. It‘s been an hour. An hour spent in suspense and utter horror, sneaking down back alleys to avoid getting caught. By now, it‘s like the entire city is on its feet. Police everywhere, patrolling, on the lookout, guns drawn for the most part. It‘s understandable. One of their own just died in the line of duty. Killed with his own gun by a 12 year old.

 

But Will, Mike and Hopper are safe. Back at the warehouse, back in the small office building. And the night wasn‘t even unsuccessful. At least, they have two sleeping bags now. Four pairs of gloves. A new blanket. And, of course, the uncounted money Mike has stuffed in his pockets. Maybe they‘re better off than before.

 

They all take some time to breathe. Not a lot, though. Will feels himself sink down to the ground, back sliding down the wall. Hopper and Mike remain standing. Mike, because he seems unable to do anything but pant and gawk at his shaking, bloody hands with panicky wide eyes. Hopper, because he is obviously enraged.

 

„Could have gotten yourself killed there, kid.“ he says coldly. He swings the Officer‘s revolver in front of Mike‘s face. „The hell were you thinking? You both shoulda run.“

 

Will breathes. That‘s all he can do. Mike‘s face, however, turns to something like defiance. „We saved you.“ he breathes weakly. „You‘d be in jail by-“

 

But he doesn‘t get to finish his half-hearted protest. The back of Hopper‘s hand suddenly strikes across his face with enough force to send him stumbling a few steps before tripping over one of the office chairs. For the second time that night, Mike lands hard on the ground. This time, he doesn‘t get up again. His body just curls up into the smallest ball possible.

 

Hopper isn‘t done, though. „How old was he? What do you think?“ he growls, voice loud and threatening. „25? Might have been married, right? With a wife. Maybe a little kid, or one on the way? Well, guess what, they probably already told her he‘s dead! Yeah, good goddamn job saving me!“

 

Will shivers, contemplating if he should just crawl under the desk next to him and stick his fingers up his ears until it‘s over. He doesn‘t need to, because it‘s over right then and there.

 

„Stay here.“ Hopper grumbles. „Or go, I don‘t care. Need time to think.“ And like that, the man is gone. he slams the door shut, then his footsteps leave the site until no sound is left but Will‘s faint sniffling.

 

It takes a while for Mike to crawl up to him. The other boy sits down right next to Will. Which is unfortunate, because Will understands the pattern here all too well. Things go wrong. Hopper blames Mike. Mike passes it on to Will. As if to confirm Will‘s fears, Mike‘s hand raises. There‘s no time. Will breathes out. He knows from experience, it hurts less that way.

 

Only, it doesn‘t hurt at all, and that confuses Will. He can clearly feel Mike‘s arm around his shoulders. It‘s hard to wrap his head around this, being touched without being hurt. That‘s just a faint memory for Will. One of his mother and Jonathan. Too far away to actually be vivid.

 

But this is good. It helps with the images that are still so fresh on his mind. The events one hour ago play on repeat in his mind, so he doesn‘t even want to imagine what it must be like for Mike. Mike, who is now bleeding from his nose and busted lip.

 

„Dammit.“ Will hisses at the sight. Hopper really did some damage this time. „I should-“

 

„No.“ Mike coughs without a hint of emotion. „S‘okay.“ He just wipes off the blood with his already crimson red sleeve. „My fault. You might wanna leave.“ He says this, but doesn‘t let go of Will. If anything, Mike presses the two of them together with twice the strength as before. „People just... get hurt when I‘m around.“

 

„I‘m okay.“ Will whispers. „Hopper too. You had to do it. Like... like with Troy. Remember?“

 

Mike shakes his head. „Troy was a piece of shit. Would‘ve killed you for fun. And I don‘t even know if he‘s really dead.“ His voice is getting higher and higher with every word he says. Until the floodgates burst open. „I just have to fuck things up!“ he suddenly weeps against Will‘s shoulder. „Get you in trouble... get you hurt...“

 

„But I‘m _not_.“ Will insists, sobbing as well. „I...“ It‘s a small wonder that he has managed to stay around Mike for half a year without ever taking off his shirt in front of him. Maybe it‘s time. „I wanna show you something.“

 

Will‘s hands are shaking when he unbuttons his sleeves to roll them up. He avoids looking at his arms if he can. The sight just makes him sick. The same goes for Mike, who chokes on a wet sob. The scars haven‘t changed since Will has last checked up on them. All more or less gray skin. Ugly patterns, some circular cigar burns, some longer cuts. But they‘re good to prove a point.

 

„See this?“ Will traces the longest cut, one that extends from his shoulder down to his wrist, with one finger. „Dropped pa‘s beer.“

 

Mike whimpers in response.

 

„And this one.“ Will points at a pattern of three large cigar burns near his left elbow. „Brought home an F in history. Pa said I was lazy.“

 

At this point, Mike stops looking. Will is sure the crook of his neck is getting smeared with tears and blood. He doesn‘t mind. „And here.“ Now, with Mike looking away, he traces the deepest of cuts just for himself. „That‘s from the day I got an A in history. Few months later. Just for being better than him at school.“

 

Mike‘s cap is lying on the ground somewhere. Discarded from when Hopper struck him. Will remembers his mother. Not just her face, or her voice. What she did when things were particularly bad. She could never stop his father. But she could make it better. Will reaches up. His already too long fingernail begin scraping across Mike‘s scalp carefully. He tries his best to do it like his ma did years ago, and maybe it works.

 

„Will?“ Mike shudders a bit, quieting his sobs.

 

Will‘s breath hitches at the unexpected use of his first name. He can‘t even when he heard it for the last time. „Yeah?“

 

„I thought I had to make you tough.“ Mike faintly weeps. „Like... like Hopper made me tough.“

 

„You did a good job.“ Will takes in the scent of filth, cigarette smoke and blood that Mike radiates without batting an eye. He himself smells just as bad, he thinks. It‘s actually soothing. „I‘d be dead without you. I... wait a second.“

 

He withdraws from Mike only reluctantly, but grabbing a blanket doesn‘t take long, and soon they‘re huddled up against the wall again, this time nice and warm under the new, fuzzy blanket. And now Will can let it out. He doesn‘t remember crying, really crying, even once since his mother died. Whatever pa did to him. No matter how many days he spent locked in the shed, bleeding. He never cried. Not like he allows himself to do now.

 

„We‘re friends, right?“ Mike‘s voice is hushed from the blanket that reaches up to his nose.

 

„I... I think.“ Will has to think for a few seconds. „I‘ve never had a friend. Don‘t know how that feels.“

 

Mike‘s sobs turn into wet laughter for a moment. „I think it‘s supposed to feel good.“

 

Will breaks out into a comfortable smile that Mike probably can‘t even see in the dark of this old, run-down office. „I guess we‘re friends then.“

 

The images are gone for the moment. Will‘s mind is clear. Maybe they can get some sleep tonight.

 

* * *

 

Shaking. Will‘s entire world is shaking. Or... it‘s being shaken.

 

His eyes snap open. The first thing he registers is, it‘s not morning yet. The sky outside the windows is still pitch black, with some of the city lights tinging the low hanging clouds.

 

„Kid?“ That‘s Hopper talking quietly, softer than Will has ever heard his voice. Mike stirs awake too, and Will holds him tight until he understands that Hopper isn‘t going to do anything.

 

„What‘s...“ Mike mumbles. His lip is now swollen, the side of his face bruised.

 

„Shit. I‘m... I shouldn‘t have done that.“ Hopper sighs. „Need anything?“

 

„‘m fine.“ Mike shakes his head.

 

Looking at Hopper, Will understands, something must be going on. „Where have you been?“

 

„Things aren‘t looking good.“ the man admits. „Streets are swarming with cops. So... pack up.“

 

„Pack up?“ Will frowns. „You mean... like... packing our stuff?“

 

„We‘re skipping town.“ Hopper confirms. „Tonight. At least, I‘m gonna do it. Can‘t force you.“

 

„Where do you wanna go?“ Mike breathes in slight panic. Will feels it too. Things are gonna change. No roof to hide under. No canned food, maybe. Just uncertainty. And it‘s gonna be winter.

 

But Hopper looks at Will, and his eyes give something away before he even says it. Will‘s heart picks up pace, suddenly rattling in his chest like a machine gun.

 

„We got two hours.“ the man says gruffly. „Then we‘re catching a freight train. 8 hours from here to Chicago. From there it‘s 18 hours to Lincoln, Nebraska.“

 

„Nebraska...“ Will breathes out.

 

To his surprise, Hopper quickly gathers both of them in his arms. „You did a good job tonight. Let‘s see if we can find that brother of yours, huh? Can‘t stand the winter around here anyways.“

 

* * *

 

There‘s a sense of comfort to this. The loud rattling. The way the train rocks back and forth in its track. Will finds himself sitting on a few bags of corn in a wooden freight car. It‘s loud. Loud enough to drown out Hopper‘s snoring. Will doesn‘t think he can sleep. Letting his head rest on Mike‘s shoulder, he just marvels at the orange sun that is peeking up from behind the horizon.

 

How did this happen? How did he go from waking up on an ordinary day on the streets of Indianapolis to sitting on a train that might be carrying him to where he wanted to go all this time? He wants to cry, or shout out loud. But, as not to wake Hopper, he simply says „I thought I‘d have to go alone. In the spring.“

 

He feels Mike gently rubbing at his shoulder. „I would‘ve come with you anyways. You think we‘re gonna find him?“

 

„It‘s gonna be hard.“ Will bites his lip. The letter Jonathan‘s former boss got from him is dated September 1947. More that a year ago. Things can happen in such a long time. Good things. Bad things. Things that change everything. But first things first. He has seen the map. The little town called Ravenna, where Jonathan found work back then, is about 120 miles to the west from where this train ride is going to end. „We‘re gonna have to walk. Probably.“

 

„Doesn‘t matter.“ Mike shakes his head. „It‘s gonna be worth it. You‘re gonna have a new home.“

 

Now, should Will be taken aback? Maybe. But he laughs out loud instead. „ _We‘re_ gonna have a new home.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original ending was completely different, but I think this is the way to go if I want the sequel to happen. I promise, it's gonna be way better. Like, without the awkward pacing. And I want it to have all the characters. Get the party together, no matter if it's 1984 or 1948, right?
> 
> Anyways, I've written a prologue. It's just weird to think about starting another fic when 'It's the doubt" is sitting there on hiatus. Hm.


End file.
